All hail the King!
by Shrikestorm
Summary: Peace has prevailed, but are their still storm clouds over His Majesty's becrowned head? Tidbits, references and general babble. Seven Hells, what can you do but give it a read? R&Rs are lovely things, please donate your views to this worthy cause :) x
1. Court-room Cyvasse

The thin, dour man sat uncomfortably on the Iron Throne. He shifted his weight onto his other buttock and decided that the chair was either made by a sadist, or someone so fat it didn't matter that his arse was being carved up, or possibly both – his history lessons were never that accurate concerning the past kings. He sighed and wondered why on earth the gods had given him the dumb luck to plant him on the throne of Westeros and all its painful furniture.

_I'm probably going to be a pig in my next life,_ the gloomy king thought; _the Father wants to see how well my rump will slice up. Shame the Mother didn't give me much of a rump, the miserable bitch she was…_ He pricked his palm idly on one of the sharper swords and watched his blood well up before pressing his hand to his thin lips and sucked. _Don't taste too good neither, the farmer will skewer me as a piggling like as not, always was the runt of the litter._ _No one ever did listen to me. Always got the least food, I did. Nuncle gave me plenty of clips to toughen me up, never did much good – me trotter still bleeds all the same._

"All hail His Grace, Eddison, of House Tolett, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm" cried the herald, as the petitioners filed in to tell the King their woes…

_Can't be as bad as my life, on feast days they got more than just the tail of the rat, they did,_ thought Edd sourly, but he straightened up and tried to look regal all the same. The first petitioner shuffled forwards. He wore a long hemp robe, tied with a faded yellow sash and wore a leather thong around his neck with a crystal secured with a crude knot. His head was entirely bald, save for one small patch on the back of his head that Edd could only see once he had bowed so low his large nose nearly scraped the ground. _One of those thrice-damned religious ones, no doubt, but they are loyal subjects I suppose…_

"Yes man, what is your name and what are you seeking for?" sighed Edd, hoping it would be vaguely amusing and not in the least bit costly.

"I-I-I am Septon Bairnes of Little Rivers, your Grace, may the Father judge you justly, the Mother show you mercy, the Crone grant you…"

"May the Crone grant me fifty Lysenni girls all to kiss me goodnight and seventy Dornish whores to wake me on the morn, not that she ever would, but it can hardly hurt to dream" cut in the King, already wishing he'd been lost on the Fist with his black brothers, "what do you _want_?"

"Well, your Grace, we-we lost our flock to a pack of…of ferocious wolves." He ended his sentence on a squeak, trembled for a moment, staring at the worn stone floor. "We need money to buy twenty new sheep, see, your Worship, and…and mayhaps the Crown might provide, for we have no money."

"Did the wolves eats your gold too Septon? Horrible way to die, chocking, once knew a man who died choking on a prune. Never can trust prunes you know, or cooks…" Edd trailed off, and stared at the gormless priest below him, who continued to tremble and stare at the floor. The King looked to his master of coin, Pyp, who was sitting to his left and cleaning his nails with a dagger, "Can the Crown afford to buy twenty sheep of the Sept of Little Rivers?" he asked.

"Hmmm? What? Oh, yes your Grace, I think the Crown can manage that" said Pyp, quickly sliding the dagger into its sheath, "I'll have the coin brought forth by the end of the day, Septon."

The Septon thanked the King profusely and shuffled backwards to the end of the hall bowing all the while.

"Calling forth Ser Harwin, knight of the – " _Wish I was a knight, then I could be doing the asking and someone else be doing the giving. Not that I ever did get my wishes, don't know what I did in any past lives of mine, but I must have been awful. Probably was a Septa…_

The rest of the day droned on for Edd, the petitioners shuffling forwards and backwards like pieces on a _cyvasse_ board, bowing and begging and thanking the king, bowing some more. All the while the throne cut into Edd's arse and he could do nought but sit patiently until the last of them did his final shuffling dance and left the great hall.

King Eddison stood, stretched and plodded dismally out into the courtyard. The sun was setting and the air beginning to cool. It was the perfect weather for Edd, it stayed _indoors_. Sitting on the honeyed wall, with a glass of Arbor's finest, he waited for his queen. Few approved of his kingship, and even less approved of his marriage. _Never did approve of me anyway, from the time I came squalling out of me mother's womb I've been a disappointment, why stop now, say I._

Edd watched a gaggle of ladies waltz by, all laughter and smiles. They were accompanied by the infamous Ser Bronn of Blackwater, who was a favourite around the more feminine side of court. _Only after he got his ser and his lands_ thought Edd _always is that way, isn't it? Your member could be as big as Tormund's, but it would ever get you anywhere unless you had coin as well. Everyone at court is a whore it seems…_

He felt a light kiss on the back of his neck and turned around to see his wife standing above him,

"Tash" he breathed, as he stood up to kiss her lips, "and where were you, when me and my arse were being bored stiff this morning?"

"I was hunting game, for your royal dinner," the Spearwife said, and then adding coyly, "I hope you and your regal arse aren't the only thing that's stiff" sliding her hand between his legs.

"Get off, woman, this is court, not the Wall, you need some…_court_esy" said Edd, quickly stepping back as his ears began to blush.

"Bugger your courtesy" laughed Tash. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him again, "I love you, Eddison Tollett, you gloomy southerner."

"I love you too," whispered Edd, stroking her wild brown hair, and gazing onto King's Landing – it almost looked welcoming light by the dying sun. _Perhaps life isn't as bad as all that…_smiled the King.


	2. The Will of a Wildling

Edd yawned and rolled over onto his front. _Today,_ he thought sleepily _today is going to be the most piss poor day in the history of the world._ Of course, he couldn't prove that it was going to be the most piss poor day in the world, but he could feel it in his shin bones, and his shin bones never lied. He snuggled under the furs, trying to fall back into his hazy dreams, but his nose was trying far harder to wake him up with the smell of bacon and fried bread_._ The king muttered something intelligible and rolling over once more, fell out of the bed onto the stone floor. _As if my arse doesn't get enough from that bloody throne, the floor wants to bugger me as well_ he privately cursed, and struggled to his feet, rubbing his wounded bottom.

Tash was already poised on the balcony ledge breaking her fast on bacon and boiled eggs when Edd came out, blinking at the sharp light of the morn. "You know," he said in a dull tone, "You're like to fall off that wall if you sit on it like that and I don't want my whole court breaking their fast on herrings, permissions and squashed queen." He sat down, on the considerably safer wooden chair and munched thoughtfully on a piece of fried bread. The queen laughed and leapt, ferret like onto the other reach of the balcony. "Knew a man once, got blown right off the Wall, he did" continued her husband, "Thought he could piss of it. Turned out he could, but the wind could piss him off harder. One moment there was Kend, next moment, no Kend." Tash laughed again and slipped off the edge, depositing herself in Eddison's lap. "Well, I have scaled your Wall half a dozen times, and I've never fallen of once."

"Bet you've never tried pissing off it neither, so cold your cock burns. And if the wind is blowing at you…" Edd shuddered, suddenly put off by his glass of lemon water.

"Yesterday, you told me I ought to be more court-like, now you're here talking about frozen members. Not exactly fair, is it?" said Tash, fiddling with Edd's sleep mussed hair.

"Aye, it isn't, but then again, I happen to be the king, and besides nothing has ever been fair in this bloody world." Tash had no reply to that so she stole the last of his breakfast instead. _And I was saving that last bit for meself, best bit that was, with all the burnt bit and the drippings…_ "Get off with you, yer bloody wildling, probably high treason, that" he growled playfully, shoving her off his lap, "And get some bloody _clothes_ on woman! You can't be seen in the great hall with nought on but the skin you was born in." He made to grab her behind and pull her back, but she danced out of the way and wrapped herself in the nearest tapestry, a sombre one of the Tollett household from aeons ago, with their long faces and sullen eyes.

"I could dress meself in this, would his Grace like that?" she teased, provocatively raising one leg.

"No." said Edd, his ears reddening.

"Oh, I bet he would. What is it you kneelers teach your little girls?" She paused to compose herself, lowered her great golden eyes demurely and said in a soft voice, "A lady must be seen, but not heard, she House is that of her husband, whom she doth love with her hold heart, the Seven strike her down if she does not." She looked up shrugged off the tapestry, "Well?"

"Aye, we say that, but nothing good ever did come from a woman's mouth" said Edd, walking over to drape the heavy embroidery across her shoulders, and smoothing it down as if it were made of the finest Dornish silks.

"You seemed to like the screams that were coming from my mouth last night, your Grace" Tash whispered in his ear, which promptly went a red as deep as the Lannister banners. "Tis' true, I did, but that doesn't make them good, nor something I want my knights and lords to hear" he replied, lightly slapping her buttocks with a calloused hand, "Now, _go_, I need you presentable today, I don't think I will be able to last another minute on that bloody throne unless you're there to make sardonic comments every once in a while." Edd gathered her up, tapestry and all and carried her to their robe-room. "Get dressed" he ordered. Tash made no move to the wardrobe; instead she stood in the middle of the little room with her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow. Eddison looked at her exasperated, "Please?" he begged.

"All right, since you asked me so nicely and regal like, now bugger off and do some orderin' around."

_Bloody wildling, she's like to kill me. Aye she'll do it nice enough, but she'll kill me all the bleeding same. _Edd shook his head and left the royal chambers, wondering how in Seven Hells the mind of a woman worked.


	3. When Edd doesn't want an STD

"All hail His Grace, Eddison, of House Tolett, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm" cried the herald, as Edd steeled himself for the long climb up to the Iron Throne. "All hail Her Grace, Tasha, of House…" There was a pause as the Herald desperately tried to remember his Wildling queen's clan, "of-of House Black Moon, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Princess Beyond the Wall."

Tash leaned over to her husband once they had taken their seats, "When exactly was I made the 'Princess Beyond the Wall'?" she asked.

"Oh, sometime in the last week. I'm not sure really, but I thought it sounded nice" replied her husband. "Of course, all you've got to reign over is ice and a few lost sheep, but it's better than being a Princess of the Fingers, all they reign over there is the sheep shit."

Queen Tasha smirked at the slight and had a quick look around to see if Petyr Balish was anywhere to be seen. As she did, Edd leaned over again, "Are you ready to play some _cyvasse_?" _Buggering Hells, the first move they make is to bring in the bloody elephant._ Without missing a beat, he sat straight and looked sternly onto the first petitioner, "What is it that you wish to ask the court?"

The man he stared down upon was huge, and Edd thought he strongly resembled a particularly tasteless block of lard he once ate, mistaking it for cheese – even the smell was right, as the man's sweaty odour drifted up to do battle with the king's olfactory senses.

"Your Gr- Grace." The lard-man stammered as he attempted to make a courtly bow, but was rather restricted by his ballooning stomach. "I come to ask for…for the p-p-pardon of m-my boy, my boy."

Edd sighed, he had been suffering these pathetic wailings for days now. A month back a brigand of outlaws, exiles from Dondarrion's former group had been captured in a remote town in the Vale. They had been raping murdering anything that could squeal, taking whatever caught their sight, leaving nothing of value. The band was due to be hung upon the moon's turn. None had been granted mercy.

Edd steepled his fingers and examined the man. His hair was coarse and patchy, scabs covered his bald spots – Edd reckoned he could see ticks frolicking about on his scalp. His robe was thread bare and his leather shoes were as thick as his own skin. _How does a man so impoverished manage to retain a belt that would be too large my damn horse? There's not many men that can compete with a belly like that._ Edd coughed and metally corrected himself, _not many whales that can compete with a belly like that…_

The king realised that he had been silent for a while now, and the man had begun to perspire profusely. "Good…" Edd paused, wondering how to address the leviathan-turned-man, "Good ser, do you know why your boy is in my Black Cells?"

The man hung his head, "Yes, Your Grace." He muttered.

"So you can see that it would be frankly wrong to free him?"

"M'lord…Your Grace Ser, but it wasn't him that thought it, see. He was always in with the bad lot, even as a boy I'd say Palen, don't you go mixin' with that lot, they be getting you into all sorts of trouble. Not that he'd ever listen, but he never thought of the bad things they'd done, that would be the blacksmith's boy, like when he got that calf an' he – "

"Yes I think we all understand where you're going," said Tasha, who was clearly keen to end the man's fevered blathering, "You're son, who wasn't really bad, did some bad things because he was too thick to think of anything better to do with his pathetic life, yes?"

Eddison sat a little straighter on the throne, earning himself a prick on an unfortunate elbow and muttered to her, "Well, normally we hold a little more decorum in court but – " He stopped and looked at the fat man. The whale had made no outcry or protest at his wife's curt interruption; instead he had his little greedy eyes fixated on her. His lecherous eyes were staring at her waist, her breasts, her neck, her lips, and his tongue began to protrude from his fat lips as he worked his way up and down her body. He made now effort to hide his lust, and the court began to murmur behind gloved hands. _Damn him! Damn him to the Seven Hells, you sick bastard, thinking of nothing but how you'd like to stick your fat cock into Tash! _"Out!" Edd cried, "All of you, get out now!" He strode down the steps faster and faster until he was inches from the fat man and his stench. "You, if you ever want to see your son, it will be as you're both led up the hangman's galley!" the king roared. The man made a grimace and waddled away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The hall was empty; motes of dust fell silently onto the patches where the lords and ladies had stood moments ago. A horse whinnied from the lists as some underserving knight or other trained at tilting. Edd turned, his breathing ragged. The king was known to dislike many things, the sun, the rain, weather in general, prunes (much to the disappointment of the cooks he had them outlawed in the Red Keep), thornes – both the plant and people varieties, but Tash was another matter entirely. Oh, he knew she could handle herself, but to think that any man would ever want to harm her cut into him much deeper than the Iron Throne did. He heard a faint patter of footsteps, and turning watched her hurry down the steps to him.

"Never knew you to get that lairy with no one before," Tasha said, crossing her arms she began to examine one of her nails.

"Well, he was…" Eddison began, but tailed off when he saw the fire in her eyes.

"I know what that bastard was doing, Edd. Do you think we didn't get that when we was in the North? Or on your bloody Wall?" Tasha looked at her husband and cupped his face in her hands, "I love you, yer bloody kneeler, but you cannae just clear court because men can't take their minds off their cocks for one minute," she said softly, pausing to give him a lingering kiss, "I can fend for meself, you've got a whole bleein' realm to look after."

Eddison buried his face in Tasha's hair and kissed her neck, "I know, Tash, but this court don't mean nought to me, if all it is, is sodding gits paying more attention to your chest than whatever the hell they came here for. I ain't got no patience for them bastards, you are the only thing that proper matters." The couple broke apart, and after a moment's hesitation embraced once more, their arms wrapped tight around each other as if letting go would spell the end of the entire world.

"Eddison Tolett?"

"Mmph?"

"Fuck 'em, fuck this court, fuck this city."

"Well I'd rather not, I'd probably end up with more diseases then my ma did at the end."

"Shut up you gibbering sod, I'm gonna be taking you huntin'. Proper huntin', like we's used to."

"And be 'we's' I suppose you mean…"

"Wildling style."


End file.
